Locked
by RedBenchArty
Summary: She got a lot of lucky breaks. It was astounding she could even shoot straight with whiskey running through her veins. Lazlo Soot/Original Character pairing.
1. Chapter 1

**Locked:** Chapter 1

 _This is the final boarding call for flight number CB-sixty three... This is the final boarding call for flight number CB-sixty three...  
_

She wished her contractor could have spared the expense for a private jet. It was two twenty-two in the morning and her ticket stub was stamped with a departure time for two thirty. She was unarmed and aggravated. Her underboss planned the day before for her to meet up with a trusted firearms provider once she landed and this was how it went most of the time for her.

Bobbi Malone under the false identity, "Isabelle Ryan" was standing in line for a customs check. Beneath her jacket was a small tin flask tucked into her waistband. She popped two Bonine tablets and reached for her drink, reminding herself to fill up the next chance she could.

"Next!" yelled the attendant, gesturing for her to step up to the metal detector.

She crudely handed her flask to him while she slipped out of her heels. She had no luggage to check and carried a small duffle bag with her. She placed the only piece of luggage she had on her onto the conveyor belt along with her shoes and stepped through the metal detector.

Bobbi hated flying with a passion but it was required in her line of work. Vertigo always stuck with her long after the flight, though taking medication helped somewhat. Neither could she drive due to being shit faced more than half the time.

The man scanned her with the handheld for extra precautions and glowered at her, eyes fixated on her mangy hairdo.

"There's nothin' livin' in it, let's move on." She spat. More often than not, people would comment on her hair. It was a matted mess and she wouldn't do anything about it. While it wasn't something uncommon for her she still bit back at whoever had the gall to speak up.

Slowly her duffle bag appeared, creeping along the belt travel. The attendant handed Bobbi her flask back, his scowl a seemingly permanent feature. She swiped her duffle bag and shoes off the conveyor and ambled towards her terminal despite the loudspeakers calling for the last of the passengers. Downing the last drop of her drink she tucked it away with finality and squinted up at the numbers on a nearby screen. The edges of the images were starting to fuzz. A middle aged man with an unfortunate bald spot strolled by, rolling a black suitcase behind him. Bobbi reached out and grasped his checkered sleeve.

"You. Where's gate C?"

He seemed wary of the woman with a strong grip and added in the title not out of respect or politeness. "You're standing in front of it, miss."

Sure enough a white block with a bold **GATE C** had been above her head.

She didn't bother with any form of gratitude and instead, shoved him aside lightly and made her way to the ticket desk. It was incredulous that she even made it in time for boarding. Most of the time she didn't even know what was going on in the world in front of her. Handing over her fake passport and stub to the ticket lady she was met with a feverish grimace.

"You have to hurry, Ms. Ryan. Didn't you hear any of the final announcements? I'll have one of the flight crew escort you through the jet bridge."

This ticket lady had been one of the nicer ones Bobbi had encountered. She then was rushed along by a stout woman dressed in the standard uniform.

Stumbling along the tunnel as the attendant repeatedly told her to move faster, Bobbi thought back to the previous day.

 _"You do something different to your hair today, Malone?" The bodyguard stood at the front of the door leading to her boss was fairly new but not inexperienced. The former one leaked to a girlfriend solely thinking of showing off and not of the consequences. He was cut and his girlfriend joined him as they were disposed of immediately._

 _"Yah, it's parted differently, wiseguy." She'd flipped him the bird._

 _The office was darkened and rank from the overlaying cigar fumes. The smell was in the walls, the furniture and the carpeting, even when the man wasn't smoking you would still be hit with the overpowering scent the minute you cracked open the door. Stepping in and shutting the door, Bobbi took the lone seat at the front of the desk. The underboss was a man of few words which suited her fine but didn't sit well with a few others in the organization. He leaned back into his chair and blew a stream of smoke upwards before stubbing his cigar and focusing on his employee._

 _"... Word is Primo Sparazza is offering a thousand grand in cash."_

 _"Christ all mighty."_

 _The manila folder was pushed across the desk. A million dollars. Bobbi would be well off for a while with even a quarter of that._

 _"This time won't be easy. You weren't_ my _first choice for this assignment and I don't think you're suitable but big boss specified for you. You'll have competition, can you handle that?"_

 _It wasn't pride talking when she'd accepted the assignment- Figments of little dollar signs swirled around her eyes._

Her target: Lake Tahoe, California.

* * *

 **"Legless" Bobbi Malone**

 **Deadliness:** 88  
 **Weapons:** 52  
 **Cunning:** 34  
 **Sadism:** 11  
 **Sex Appeal:** 67


	2. Chapter 2

**Locked:** Chapter 2

Bobbi slept most of the flight, waking up only to stumble to the bathroom. On the first trip she fell over when she stood up too suddenly on legs that had fallen asleep. Chatters went up in the aisles and those who were awake gasped or tried to conceal a chuckle. An older lady in the left aisle got out of her seat to help the woman up. Bobbi simply brushed her away without a word. Her head swam as she lifted herself off the floor and she wanted to crawl to the bathroom instead but didn't want to make a spectacle out of it. Perhaps _more so_ of a spectacle. The second bathroom trip was to throw up. When it was announced that the flight was about to land, Bobbi was shaken awake by the same old woman who had tried to help her up earlier. By the time the plane disembarked it was half past five am.

She hailed a taxi at the airport and gave directions instructions for the driver to let her off a block from her designated meeting point. The floors in the car were filthy, the mats covered with brown dirt and the air was stagnant. It was a silent drive save for the brief moment when Bobbi had to tell the driver to crank down a goddamn window because the button on her side was jammed. Rows of palm trees whizzed by her vision. They were vibrant and full of life, a contradiction to how she felt sitting in the musty vehicle. The taxi finally pulled into a space by the sidewalk and came to a stop.

"Fifty bucks."

Bobbi lifted her hips awkwardly to reach into her back pocket and produce a ten, a fiver spilling out as well. It fluttered down under the car seat and she stretched back with her leg, trying to drag the bill out with her boot. The driver watched on in bewilderment as the woman twisted herself like a pretzel. For a period of stunned silence, the only sounds made were scuffing noises. Finally, she reached down after successfully scraping the bill from underneath and handed the rumpled paper money over. It drooped like wilted flowers in her fingers.

"Keep the change."

The driver glared and kept his hands on the wheel. The price on the counter was clearly indicated but Bobbi hadn't even glanced over to check it.

"I said fifty, this is fifteen."

"That's alright, keep the change" she slurred. Everything happened in a frenzy afterwards. Bobbi opened passenger door and crawled towards it. Hastily the driver reached for her waist, her arm, anything to keep her from leaving and running off with his money. He grabbed her leg, yelling profanities and threatening to report her. Her head was halfway out the door and she awkwardly struggled to maintain upright. Looking down at the red and blotchy driver in disgust, she kicked his head in, or more accurately; stomped on his face. And then again for good measure.

"You sack of shit!"

The pressure on her leg was released immediately as his hands flew to his nose to staunch the oozing blood.

As she got out she slammed the door and tucked two twenties under one of the windshield wipers.  
Then kicked in a headlight. It didn't shatter on impact so she had to kick it a second time.

A kid standing across the street saw this and began laughing obnoxiously at her. When she flipped him the bird, he only returned it with an additional chocolate-smeared leer. Bobbi had a snarl plastered on her face for the rest of her walk.

The meeting destination was tucked away in an alcove. The entire building had bits of peeling paint with aged and dirty windows yet the door looked brand new- it was a hideous combination. She rapped on the door harshly and leaned against the wall while she waited.

Noticing that her knuckles were now blue, she realized why the door looked so clean.. The paint was still wet.

"What's the password?" Was the muffled reply from inside.

"There isn't a password." Bobbi snapped, angry about the paint stains on her hand.

The door opened shortly after to reveal a balding, stocky man. He fidgeted with a handkerchief, wiping down each hand in turn. This was Dick Blum. He was unfortunately named and threw a punch at anyone who tempted to joke about it.

"I am surprised you're still kicking." He smirked catching sight of her knuckles and continued. "How do you like the new paint job?"

Bobbi brushed passed him so he could shut the door and get on with business.

Polished guns were laid out on a table in front of them. She stood there, pondering over the choices. She frequently used a magnum but her go to weapon was a rifle since she was often appointed point man. When she could, she relied heavily on accuracy over fire rate.

She recalled getting knocked off her feet once by a shotgun with insane recoil. She laughed about it at the time, kind of lolling around on the floor but it pissed off her partner who claimed she wasn't taking it seriously and his life was on the line.

Dick wandered around the side of the table casually straightening weapons back into position. For someone so concerned about cleanliness, he sure lived in one shitty looking residence. "Actually, I'm more surprised you can see who you're aiming at, can you even hold your gun straight?"

"Occasionally an antique vase meets the crosshairs." She tried to sound flippant but it was ruined by a loud and sudden hiccup that seeped out of her mouth.

"You should use a laser attachment."

"You want me dead, is that it?"

Dick raised an eyebrow, a smirk spreading across his features. "Ahh, that's reason enough. Here, let me get you one." He motioned to a box of attachments.

"Jackass."

Bobbi picked up a pair of handguns and five extra cartridges. She shoved the ammunition into one of her pockets carelessly which caused one of the cartridges to fall back out onto the desk, scattering the bullets that were residing on it.

"Please put this woman out of her misery." Dick whispered under his breath but wasn't trying very hard to be subtle. After sweeping the pellets into a little neat pile, he straightened up and looked her in the eye. "What's your plan of action?"

He looked so serious it almost sent chills down her neck. They had a hateful relationship but were stuck as business partners until one of them kicked the dust. It was unnatural to see anything other than contempt while he was speaking to her.

"Ventilation duct." She finally replied.

The facade fell and wrinkles grew prominent as Dick furrowed his brow.

"Are you pissed or just a fucking idiot?"

As proof, she reached into her vest and pulled out a rolled map with the air duct schematics. There hadn't been any time for her to look it over and study it yet.

"And you don't fucking think they'll hear you thumping around up there? Why don't you just put a shot to your head to save you the trouble?" He shook his head in disbelief, angrily cursing under his breath once more. He turned back to face her and threw his arms up in the air. "Here's a better idea: book a room. Use a disguise."

"Sure. Then I'll just walk right in."

"You arrogant bitch. Won't be news to me when they drag your body out of there, riddled with bullets."

Bobbi rolled her eyes and slid the paper back into her vest, patting it grandiosity.

Dick regarded her critically. Despite his wickedness, he decided at that moment to let on a little information out of courtesy. "A little bird told me the tremor hicks will be involved."

"They're flashy." Bobbi said as she reached over and took a silencer. She then wandered over to the fireplace and reached for the fancy looking paper cutter that was laid on the mantle. She slipped it into the folds of her boot, not caring whether Dick noticed or not.

He had.

"Jesus, get out of here already!"

Turning her back on him, she headed for the door leering at it suspiciously in case the inside was painted as well. A malevolent laugh sounded from behind her.

"Malone. Hang on there, you got something in your hair."

She forcefully shut the door, hitting the heel of her boot in her haste to get out of there. She yowled in pain and slammed the door a second time as Dick laughed cruelly from inside.

During the taxi ride, she passed a restaurant-bar not far from the alcove. Checking her watch, she decided she could spare a few minutes and limped in the direction she remembered seeing it.

The sign read "Licky's bar" in neon letters although it was barely seen in the sunlight.

Upon entering and shouting for a beer, one of the waiters skeptically replied, "Isn't it a bit early for a drink?"

The patrons were local and few in number. Bobbi tucked herself away in a corner, studying the diagram and trying to figure a plan of action. On her second pint she decided it was time to leave for the hotel.

Throwing a few bills to the table, she crumpled and dumped the map into a garbage can and followed behind a man who was exiting as well. He didn't notice her presence and let the door swing back as he left, smacking her as it closed.

"Fuck me!" She hollered, gripping her nose and tilting her head up to the sky. "Stop hurting me!"


End file.
